Page 51 of The Discount Damsel

The hedge knight’s gaze strafed to Millie and back again. The princess had been right: knights didn’t reach his age unless they are very good at knighting, and that included navigating court politics and interpreting body language. Not only was the apprentice protective of the dragon—strange and noteworthy of itself—but he watched the princess with a fiery intensity. Passion or ire, he couldn’t be sure just yet.

“When I start training Miss Millie to handle a sword, there are going to be cuts, bruises, scrapes, and more than a little shoving.” Sir Roger set his hand upon the hilt of his sword. “She’s going to get hurt, but each injury is going to be a lesson and nothing else. Is that going to be a problem for you? Because I don’t want to have to watch my back.”

The sorcerer apprentice rolled his eyes and gestured to the door. “Cell.”

“He means your room,” Millie corrected. “You’ll be in the dungeon, of course, as you are technically a prisoner of the dragon, and, well, we just can’t have you nosing about until you’ve truly proven yourself trustworthy.”

“Makes sense,” the knight said. Far too reasonably, in Bradley’s opinion.

“I’ll need that sword, too.”

Here the knight balked.

“You’ll get it back, I assure you.”

“But isn’t that sword technically mine?” Dirk asked. “I defeated him, after all. And it’s very pretty.”

“Oathkeeper is not pretty,” Sir Roger admonished. “It is dignified.”

“An exception must be made, Master Dirk,” Millie said reasonably. “He can’t train me to swashbuckle without a sword.” She held out a patient but expectant hand to Sir Roger. “It will be held in safekeeping until it is time for lessons. Surely you can understand.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, the hedge knight’s hand tightened around the hilt.

When he didn’t unbuckle the scabbard, Bradley took a step forward.

“Keep your spells to yourself, lad,” the hedge knight snapped. “I just need a minute. It’s a heavy thing, a knight surrendering his sword.”

But he did, and Millie had to use two hands to bear its weight. She waddled over to the corner and gently eased the sword to the ground and leaned it in the cradle of the walls.

“Seems like that’s your first time handling a sword, miss. And here I figured a lass like you with her mind so made up about piracy, she would’ve goaded the castle guards into giving her fencing lessons.”

“Oh, I definitely tried. Amberlian guards are unfortunately quite stubborn when it comes to the commands of their queen.” The princess once again linked her arm with the hedge knight and guided him out onto the landing. “This way, and do mind the hermit crabs. They usually glow to give you fair warning they’re there, but just in case. Now, what would you say to a diet primarily of beans and rice? I don’t want to put too much of an additional strain on the cook to get creative at mealtimes.”

So now Bradley was “the cook?” His footsteps adopted a stomping march.

“I’d say ‘thank you,’” Sir Roger answered with a glance over his shoulder at Bradley. “Picky eaters don’t exist amongst the common folk, miss. When you’ve known true hunger, you view food only as fuel.”

“Thank you for being so amenable. Now I would love to know your thoughts on a training schedule. I have a few ideas myself.”

At the bottom of the tower, Bradley shouldered his way between princess and hedge knight to wrench open the dungeon door. Like those of the cells, this one was comprised of iron bars that allowed the jailor to visually inspect the prisoners without having to enter the dungeon itself. The door opened to a hallway lined with cool sand with eight-foot-square cells on either side and a communal toilet and faucet at the far end. Deep underground, there were no windows and the only light to see by was provided by the purple crystals growing out of the ceiling.

The hedge knight entered, the princess following with a, “Pick any cell you’d like; they each have cots. A note about the amenities, though. The faucet only has cold water, but it is potable, and the— Hey!”

The princess seized the iron bars just as Bradley locked the door and slipped the master key back over his neck and under his robe.

“Excuse you!” The princess gave the rungs of the door a tug, but they didn’t budge.

“Look at that,” Bradley signed. “All the privacy you want to devise your training regimen combined with all the security I need. How mutually advantageous. Enjoy.”

Bradley began his ascent to the workroom where he could continue his studies in the tranquil knowledge that the princess was not loose in the tower getting her entitled mitts on Master Excelsior’s things.

“But I told you the toilet doesn’t work!” she called after him.

“Guess I’ll go take a look at that,” the hedge knight said, already pacing for the rear of the dungeon.

“Master Dirk,” the princess protested.

“He, um, has the only key,” the luck dragon said lamely. Dirk flew to where Bradley was already twenty steps into his climb and thwacked the apprentice in the gut with his tail. Or, at least he tried, for the apprentice dodged to the side and continued to climb. “You’re being very rude, Bradley.”